I love it when I can be clever, conniving, sly and otherwise a rapscallion and wben it's all said and done, nobody is hurt, nobody is the wiser, and Nobody thinks he got a good deal, too, when in fact I scored big time.
Last night found us at our local cheap-o lumber yard, trying to find some vegetable fertilizer, some fire ant poison, and some snapdragons, which seem to be out of season because I found exactly ZERO of them. Ah well. I did, however, find a deal in which I could rapscallion someone at.
If you have ever set foot in a lumber place that also just happens to have a lawn and garden section, you know that at the verrrry beginning of rose season, usually just after the first good freeze, they start stocking bare root roses. You see them as a few meager wax-dipped canes sticking up out of a foot long sausage-like plastic wrapper, and a gaily-coloured picture of a gigantic rose on a piece of paper stuck in the front of the package. What you get when you unwrap the bundle is a wad of wet cardboard wrapper holding in a wad of wet sawdust and a sad collection of brown roots waiting patiently for dirt.
And naturally these first-comers are the first to die, because only desperate or really knowledgable foilk buy them, because they're hard to get growing properly. Well, there was a pile there of very poor specimens which had been sitting there so long the colour pictures on front were faded to white, and only a few still had any green in the canes. So, I snapped wise. Happens occasionally.
I found a little manager out there, pointed to the roses, pointed out to him how horrible they looked, how most were dead or dying, and how they were priced at $5.49 each while right down the same aisle he had 2 gallon potted roses in full bloom for $5.99, and how he was pretty foolish to leave them sit there. So, being magnanimous and speaking fast to keep him off his feet, I offered him ten bucks "for the lot of them." He hemmed and hawed, and went to find a manager. When I tracked him down again, he said he'd let me have them all for the price of one.
And that's how Irrelephant came to be loading up TWENTY SEVEN bare-root roses in the trunk of the tiny little Toyota.
And that's how Irrelephant came to spend all of his yesterday planting 12 of the twenty seven and running slap out of energy.
And there's still more alive.
If I'm lucky I'll pull a good fifteen to seventeen living ones out of the bunch.
And since I've been unlucky too, most of the living ones are pink.